[The Prompt: This Scene should be based in Disney.]
The sun was beating down hot on the back of the boy's necks, all of them were standing in the middle of nowhere, mingling between themselves while they complained about how hot it was outside. They had all taken carriages here upon receiving an invitation from Enjolras who had to yet to make an appearance. They were at an old farmhouse, and speculations began to rise about why they were here, but none of them seemed likely. Right now all they wanted to do was have some water and go home, but there were no horses in sight.
"God, it's so hot!" shouted Combeferre as he continually fanned himself with a bundle of hay that he picked from the dying ground. "Where the hell is Enjolras, this was his bloody idea and didn't even have the gall to show up!"
"Tell me about it." Grunted Grantaire, who was having the worst time out of all of the boys; his hangover was making it almost impossible to see through the sun, and on top of that, he couldn't drink to make the pain in his eyes go away because there was no wine in sight. He hoped Enjolras would show up soon so they could all yell at him. "Feuilly, you're supposed to be a fan maker, where the hell is a damn fan when we need one?"
Feuilly looked up a Grantaire, his eyes flaming with annoyance for that was at least the 5 th time someone has asked him that in the past hour they've been kept waiting. "I didn't know we were going to be baking in the sun today, or else I would've brought one for myself!" he snapped, flustered, and wiped his brow of a layer of sweat.
The sound of the wheels of a carriage coming down the rocky path they arrived at echoed through the quiet country sides, making the boys ears perk up and for all of them to go completely silent as they watched the beautiful black horse-drawn carriage bounce down the road with hate burning in their eyes. This could only be one man, and they were not very happy with him at all. The door opened, and the hunger in the eyes of the boys increased as a foot stepped out, revealing their leader who was dressed lightly and perfect for the weather. He had both of his arms full of guns, and a bag of smaller firearms in his hands. He threw them all down on the ground, and set down the bag before his carriage drove away and the men rushed him all at once, their voices red and their faces red with anger. They all shouted terrible things at him, death threats, swear words, anything that you could imagine.
Enjolras knew that his friends would be angry, but he didn't imagine that they would be this mad! "Men," he said, trying to calm them all down. "Men," he said again, this time a little louder. "Men!" Enjolras screamed, his voice shut up all of the other boys, and they went completely silent as their leader looked at them, annoyance burning in his eyes. "Now I'm sure you are all wondering why I brought you here today."
"You sent us out in the middle of bloody nowhere and told us to be here at exactly noon and you show up an hour late! You better start giving us some answers, Enjolras." Courfeyrac said eagerly, his anger bubbling up inside of him as his friend stood in front of him, not even caring that they were all about to get heatstroke.
"That is called patience, Courfeyrac, obviously you don't have any." Enjolras answered coolly, and flicked a blonde curl out of his eye. "Since we are getting serious about starting a revolution, we must know that we are going to be fighting for our cause, and have to learn how to fight." They all looked at him, faces puzzled. "The barrels you've been sitting on," he patted one of the wooden barrels and opened the top "Gun powder." He kicked a crate that was lying next to the barrel he opened "These crates, they are full of bullets." Enjolras gave his friends a charming smile "I'm going to teach you all how to shoot."
"You're kidding; we obviously know how to shoot!" Grantaire slurred angrily, and kicked the barrel of gun powder.
Enjolras bent down and grabbed a small firearm from the bag on the ground. He thrusted the gun towards Grantaire who snatched it from his leaders and hand looked at it like it was nothing but a thing. The Drunk was very confident in his ability to shoot, because today he was actually sober for once and that was something he was not very often. "Of course you do Grantaire. Look over there," Enjolras pointed in the distance at a faraway barrel in the middle of the field. It was completely empty, and Grantaire gave him a snort. "I want you to shoot that barrel. Doesn't matter where on the barrel, just shoot it."
